Despite all the years I worked in publishing, I didn’t really meet that many readers. Sure, we talked about things we were working on, often in exhaustive technical detail, but there wasn’t really much discussion about books and reading in general. Once in a while, though, something really ridiculous would come up.
It was a team lunch, and there were the usual complaints about authors and schedulers and typesetters and marketing people and what-have-yous. Somehow, EL James got dragged into it. ‘It’s not like you have to be good to be published,’ scoffed Prema as I tried to flag down a waiter. ‘Just look at that Fifty Shades book.’
‘Has anyone actually read that book?’ I wondered, looking around the crowded restaurant. Too many people and too much noise; you could barely hear what the person across the table was saying. ‘Why do we keep bashing it?’Continue reading “fifty shades of ridiculous, more like”